Let’s help women where they really need help

Consider this. On Tuesday morning, 14-year-old Malala, got on a bus and headed off to school. By itself this was quite remarkable — after all, Malala lives in the Swat Valley.

The bus, shuddering along a road with a load of giggling girls no doubt gossiping and doing what girls do was boarded by a bearded man in a head wrap who asked for Malala by name. Then he shot her.

The Swat Valley, as perhaps you know, stretches along the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan. It’s a particularly dangerous region that still harbours the dregs of the Taliban.

Why Malala? Why this girl?

Malala’s full name is Malala Yousufzai and she has, since she was 11 years old, been a brave and vocal advocate for her community, drawing international attention to conditions she and those like her were forced to endure under the Taliban’s benighted rule. At an age when 11-year-olds in Canada’s cushy confines are experimenting with nail polish and making their first solo forays to the mall, Malala took on a pseudonym and began blogging for the BBC. When the Taliban were driven from the valley she calls home, Malala became an outspoken proponent of education for girls, something she herself wanted desperately.

International acclaim and even the respect of her Pashtun community has apparently not been enough to keep Malala safe. According to news reports from the APN, the Taliban was quick to claim responsibility for the attack, calling Malala’s work “an abomination.” Her demands for education for herself and her community put a bull’s eye on her forehead.

And while Malala recovers, what do we do?

There is a war on women and we in North America are not the help we could be. Too often we spend our time pulling our hair and screeching like fishwives about contrary opinions on subjects we consider — or some among us consider — sacred cows.

Witness the public pillorying Status of Women Minister Rona Ambrose was forced to endure for voting her conscience recently, or the incessant hand-wringing and whining in the tiresome working-mom versus stay-at-home mom debate. Rather than righteous indignation, we specialize in self-righteous justification.

We are too small, too tied up in insignificant babble and pseudo-causes to be of any use to women and girls in the places where the war isn’t fought with bylines and column inches but with sticks, stones, guns and knives. We spill ink and crocodile tears, sound bites and news releases while they spill blood, dreams and hope. You tell me, who does the world need more?

Malala will survive her attack. She is fortunate — this time. For a while — perhaps a day, maybe a week — the world will turn its scattered attention to the Swat Valley. We’ll commend her, maybe throw a couple of bucks at an organization that’s been charged with “doing something about that.”

In time, other headlines and outrages will crowd Malala from our awareness. We’ll go back to our fishwifery and outsized charades in the name of “rights.” We’ll scorch our own for daring to do the very thing that put that bullet into Malala’s head — voicing our individual opinions, standing up for our own consciences.

If we want a better world for women, we need to fight the enemy and not each other. We need to ensure that all women have basic human rights. We need to shelter those who need protection so that they can grow and, in their turn, become the warriors, advocates, nurturers and hope for a new generation of Malalas. We need to take the focus off ourselves and turn our attention to the places where being a woman is the same thing as being a target.

The future belongs to the Malalas of this world, the women and girls who are willing to do what it takes, stand up when it matters and be counted — even if it must be among the dead.

Tara Klager was born and raised in the Guelph area. She is a freelance journalist who now resides in Calgary.

Let’s help women where they really need help

Consider this. On Tuesday morning, 14-year-old Malala, got on a bus and headed off to school. By itself this was quite remarkable — after all, Malala lives in the Swat Valley.

The bus, shuddering along a road with a load of giggling girls no doubt gossiping and doing what girls do was boarded by a bearded man in a head wrap who asked for Malala by name. Then he shot her.

The Swat Valley, as perhaps you know, stretches along the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan. It’s a particularly dangerous region that still harbours the dregs of the Taliban.

Why Malala? Why this girl?

Malala’s full name is Malala Yousufzai and she has, since she was 11 years old, been a brave and vocal advocate for her community, drawing international attention to conditions she and those like her were forced to endure under the Taliban’s benighted rule. At an age when 11-year-olds in Canada’s cushy confines are experimenting with nail polish and making their first solo forays to the mall, Malala took on a pseudonym and began blogging for the BBC. When the Taliban were driven from the valley she calls home, Malala became an outspoken proponent of education for girls, something she herself wanted desperately.

International acclaim and even the respect of her Pashtun community has apparently not been enough to keep Malala safe. According to news reports from the APN, the Taliban was quick to claim responsibility for the attack, calling Malala’s work “an abomination.” Her demands for education for herself and her community put a bull’s eye on her forehead.

And while Malala recovers, what do we do?

There is a war on women and we in North America are not the help we could be. Too often we spend our time pulling our hair and screeching like fishwives about contrary opinions on subjects we consider — or some among us consider — sacred cows.

Witness the public pillorying Status of Women Minister Rona Ambrose was forced to endure for voting her conscience recently, or the incessant hand-wringing and whining in the tiresome working-mom versus stay-at-home mom debate. Rather than righteous indignation, we specialize in self-righteous justification.

We are too small, too tied up in insignificant babble and pseudo-causes to be of any use to women and girls in the places where the war isn’t fought with bylines and column inches but with sticks, stones, guns and knives. We spill ink and crocodile tears, sound bites and news releases while they spill blood, dreams and hope. You tell me, who does the world need more?

Malala will survive her attack. She is fortunate — this time. For a while — perhaps a day, maybe a week — the world will turn its scattered attention to the Swat Valley. We’ll commend her, maybe throw a couple of bucks at an organization that’s been charged with “doing something about that.”

In time, other headlines and outrages will crowd Malala from our awareness. We’ll go back to our fishwifery and outsized charades in the name of “rights.” We’ll scorch our own for daring to do the very thing that put that bullet into Malala’s head — voicing our individual opinions, standing up for our own consciences.

If we want a better world for women, we need to fight the enemy and not each other. We need to ensure that all women have basic human rights. We need to shelter those who need protection so that they can grow and, in their turn, become the warriors, advocates, nurturers and hope for a new generation of Malalas. We need to take the focus off ourselves and turn our attention to the places where being a woman is the same thing as being a target.

The future belongs to the Malalas of this world, the women and girls who are willing to do what it takes, stand up when it matters and be counted — even if it must be among the dead.

Tara Klager was born and raised in the Guelph area. She is a freelance journalist who now resides in Calgary.

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Let’s help women where they really need help

Consider this. On Tuesday morning, 14-year-old Malala, got on a bus and headed off to school. By itself this was quite remarkable — after all, Malala lives in the Swat Valley.

The bus, shuddering along a road with a load of giggling girls no doubt gossiping and doing what girls do was boarded by a bearded man in a head wrap who asked for Malala by name. Then he shot her.

The Swat Valley, as perhaps you know, stretches along the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan. It’s a particularly dangerous region that still harbours the dregs of the Taliban.

Why Malala? Why this girl?

Malala’s full name is Malala Yousufzai and she has, since she was 11 years old, been a brave and vocal advocate for her community, drawing international attention to conditions she and those like her were forced to endure under the Taliban’s benighted rule. At an age when 11-year-olds in Canada’s cushy confines are experimenting with nail polish and making their first solo forays to the mall, Malala took on a pseudonym and began blogging for the BBC. When the Taliban were driven from the valley she calls home, Malala became an outspoken proponent of education for girls, something she herself wanted desperately.

International acclaim and even the respect of her Pashtun community has apparently not been enough to keep Malala safe. According to news reports from the APN, the Taliban was quick to claim responsibility for the attack, calling Malala’s work “an abomination.” Her demands for education for herself and her community put a bull’s eye on her forehead.

And while Malala recovers, what do we do?

There is a war on women and we in North America are not the help we could be. Too often we spend our time pulling our hair and screeching like fishwives about contrary opinions on subjects we consider — or some among us consider — sacred cows.

Witness the public pillorying Status of Women Minister Rona Ambrose was forced to endure for voting her conscience recently, or the incessant hand-wringing and whining in the tiresome working-mom versus stay-at-home mom debate. Rather than righteous indignation, we specialize in self-righteous justification.

We are too small, too tied up in insignificant babble and pseudo-causes to be of any use to women and girls in the places where the war isn’t fought with bylines and column inches but with sticks, stones, guns and knives. We spill ink and crocodile tears, sound bites and news releases while they spill blood, dreams and hope. You tell me, who does the world need more?

Malala will survive her attack. She is fortunate — this time. For a while — perhaps a day, maybe a week — the world will turn its scattered attention to the Swat Valley. We’ll commend her, maybe throw a couple of bucks at an organization that’s been charged with “doing something about that.”

In time, other headlines and outrages will crowd Malala from our awareness. We’ll go back to our fishwifery and outsized charades in the name of “rights.” We’ll scorch our own for daring to do the very thing that put that bullet into Malala’s head — voicing our individual opinions, standing up for our own consciences.

If we want a better world for women, we need to fight the enemy and not each other. We need to ensure that all women have basic human rights. We need to shelter those who need protection so that they can grow and, in their turn, become the warriors, advocates, nurturers and hope for a new generation of Malalas. We need to take the focus off ourselves and turn our attention to the places where being a woman is the same thing as being a target.

The future belongs to the Malalas of this world, the women and girls who are willing to do what it takes, stand up when it matters and be counted — even if it must be among the dead.

Tara Klager was born and raised in the Guelph area. She is a freelance journalist who now resides in Calgary.